I wipe down my seat and tray table, then settle in for the trip. As one of the flight attendants hands out earphones, I call Max. “Hey, any news? Has Lina talked to her?”

“No, she’s still not answering, but Brandon tagged Oasis Wedding Chapel, and the caption said ‘Morning plans.’ Nothing else, though.”

“That’s good enough. I’ll head straight there from the airport.” A commotion near the cockpit draws my attention. “I’ve got to go. I’ll check in with you when I land. We’re supposed to get in just after eight thirty a.m. local time.”

“Sounds good. I doubt they’d schedule a wedding before nine anyway. Be safe.”

I tuck my phone in my pocket and try to get a better look at what’s going on up front. I mentally pray to the gods of the friendly skies: Please, please, please don’t do anything to delay this flight.

“Mariana, go already,” a throaty voice says, and when the next group of boarding passengers appears at the cabin entrance, I see Tia Viviane inching her way up the aisle, with Tia Mariana and Solange’s mom, Izabel, following closely behind her.

What the hell?

Izabel spots me first. “Dean! There you are, filho!”

“Izabel. Mariana. Viviane. Uh, this is a surprise.”

“We heard about Brandon and Solange,” Izabel says as she hands me her bag. “And if I need to be there to talk some sense into my daughter, then that’s what I’ll do. Can you put that away for me?”

“Of course.”

I end up stowing bags for all three women.

Viviane looks at her ticket. “Oh, I’m right here in your row, Dean.”

Nationals guy grunts and stands, letting her in, though it’s plain from his serious expression that he was hoping the window seat would remain empty. So damn strange. Mariana takes a seat in the row behind Nationals guy, and Izabel takes the aisle seat directly across from me. Essentially, I’m surrounded by the three sisters and one guy who thinks his dick is so big he can’t close his legs.

“You want to switch with her?” I ask my neighbor, pointing at Tia Viviane.

“Nah, I’m good.”

Tia Viviane flares her nostrils and glares at him. Oh, she’s pissed. Any minute now, Nationals guy is going to regret his decision not to switch seats with her.

Once we’re in the air, Tia Viviane proceeds to dig into her bag and remove a five-course meal. She hands Tia Mariana an item wrapped in foil, then asks me to pass another item covered in plastic wrap to Izabel. Tia Viviane isn’t bothering to limit her movements either. Instead, she’s using her full range of motion, her arm sweeping across Nationals guy’s face and almost clipping him on the nose as she purposefully prolongs the process of distributing the food. That’ll teach him.